L'histoire du parfum
by Zara Allegra Vespertine
Summary: Izana Wistalia, the First Prince of Clarines, is determined to rule his country with his beloved brother, Zen, by his side. A young woman with a rare fiery-red hair color has put a wrinkle on his plans. With a little help from her organ of scents and her astonishing mastery of perfume, will Izana change his perspective about her? Possible one-sided Izana. Noncanon. Finally complete
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Akagami no Shirayukihime. I'm just borrowing Izana Wistalia and abusing him for a bit.

 **Shoutouts:** Hello, dear readers! It's been awhile since I put up a new story. And surprisingly, it's on a different fandom. I am mostly lurking in my domain under Uta no Prince Sama. But I am taking a break from Uta-Pri fandom because I am suffering from a _little_ writer's block on trying to complete a couple of multi-chapter stories which has became stagnant on my box of works for a few years now. I decided to pass the time writing for other stuff, until I can coax my Muse for updates.

This work is dedicated to **Eirenei**. Thanks for those months putting up with my rants, raves and random discussions over the many plot bunnies that continuously plague us. This idea immediately sprung out from the many email correspondces we did. I hope you enjoy this work. I am still in the process of thinking up a Quartet Night version of Fifty Shades of Gray. Maybe a good plot will come out in one of our future discussions.

I would like to thank the lovely **Talye Kendrin** for responding to my request to beta my works on this fandom. Please check out her works and support this fandom.

* * *

 **Characters: Izana Wistalia, OC**

 **Pairing: Izana x OC**

 **Wordcount: 826**

 **Rating: General, Romance**

 **Timeline: Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49**

* * *

 **Quotes:** "An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it makes a better soup."  
― H.L. Mencken, _A Book of Burlesques_

* * *

 **Five Years Ago**

" _I'm sorry, Altheaia." He tried to caress her cheek with his fingers, but she flinched, turning her head sideways to avoid his touch._

 _His heart knotted in pain._

 _Duty or himself?_

 _Love or country?_

 _It had always been a subject he knew he would encounter as he grows older; always he knew what his decision would be. And yet, it felt difficult choosing duty over his own wants. Still, he had made a decision and he would abide by it. Besides, Altheaia was not suited to be a queen. No, she would never be a queen that Clarines country will approve of. Altheaia was sunshine and laughter, sugar and sweetness. She would never survive court intrigues and strict protocols; the sharp tongues and the pointy quills that create gossip. Nor would she ever be free of the shackles of her common breeding. In time, even he might grow weary of her. Better that this marriage had happened, and he need not let her know that he had no intention of giving her his name and protection eventually. Her false hopes had been nipped in the bud by her parents' plans, unaware that had they listened to their daughter, they could have gotten a far richer, grander son-in-law than they could have ever dreamed of._

" _I hope…that you love the flowers." He gazed at the bouquet she gripped with her hands- a huge bunch of deep pink cyclamens, purple hyacinths, light blue hydrangea and delicate indigo sweet pea blossoms tied with a thick crimson ribbon._

" _They mean nothing to me now," she replied in a low voice, hollow and hoarse from her tears._

" _My dear," he started, but she interrupted him, meeting his gaze with a defiant look of her own. Altheaia looked so beautiful in her white veil- a gift from her groom, a merchant that her parents certainly approved of. She refused the proposal, but her parents insisted. And when she sent urgent messages to him in his Castle between Rid and Sui, he deliberately ignored it until she was already ensconced in the church, forced to say her vows of piety to her marriage and husband._

 _It seemed cruel. But it was the_ only way out.

" _The flowers mean nothing._ I _mean nothing to you. No! I am not!" She cried vehemently, eyes gleaming with unshed angry tears. "You are a coward, my Lord! You played with my feelings by hiding your true identity! And when you were forced to acknowledge your status, you became ashamed that I am not suitable to be your bride after all!"_

" _That's not true!" He protested, biting his lower lip, feeling a little ashamed of his actions. A gentleman should never be responsible for a woman's tears._

 _However much he wanted to deny, what_ she _had spoken_ was true. _He wanted her, but he couldn't bring himself to commit to her fully._

 _The merry wedding dance behind her grew louder and louder, as their distance widened. There were no more words to be said. Altheaia belonged to another now; even if he wished to continue their relationship, it was no longer possible to do so._

" _I wish you all the very best." He snagged a strand of her silky blonde hair which came loose from the pearly pins holding the lacy veil._

" _I wish I could say the very same thing to you," she hissed. "However, I truly wish you a different fate: Izana Wistalia, I hope one day when you meet_ the one _that you truly want, she would break your heart into pieces and will continue to haunt you for the rest of your life!"_

 _Tears spilled from Altheaia's eyes again, and with one last glance at his face, she pulled the veil to cover her face and withdrew from the shadow of the trees where they hid earlier to talk for one last time._

 _He watched her walk away, shoulders drooping, looking defeated, before rejoining the merry-making crowd. The portly husband she married spied and approached her. Head bowed, he could see that she has agreed to what he whispered in her ear. Taking leave of the guests invited for their wedding, they slowly made their way back to their house, obviously to consummate and fulfill their vows to each other._

The one who will break his heart…

 _Izana felt a little shiver ran down his spine as the wind picked up, making the leaves of the mulberry trees around them rustle, and the branches creak. It was as if someone was listening to Altheaia's pleas and decided to grant her one wish._

The one who will break his heart. The one whom he would fall in love with all his worth and might.

 _Izana gripped the bark of the tree. Perhaps he might meet her soon enough. And when he did, he hoped she would be worthy enough for his consideration to give up everything he owns._

Including his heart.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **1\. Flower meanings:**

 **Cyclamens** – resignation and good bye

 **Purple Hyacinth** – I am sorry, forgive me

 **Hydrangeas** \- thank you for understanding

 **Sweet Peas** – Goodbye, departure, Blissful pleasure, thank you for a lovely time

 **2\. OC**

The Mangaka has not given enough background information on the First Prince, Izana Wistalia, so I exerted some creative license into planning lots of drama into his life that compelled him to act that way in the current chapters. I am very much intrigued on what goes on with the older Prince's head; we all know how a brilliant tactician he is, and how very protective he acts when it comes to his immediate family. When he realizes there are threats to be eliminated, he judges accordingly based on his experiences. While some may think this is cruel, to him, Izana is merely acting on what he believes is right. The OC is necessary to put some emphasis on what actions he may have done in the past that might further explain his treatment of Shirayuki.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from this manga and anime unfortunately.

Kudos to the lovely **Talye Kendrin** on doing a fantastic job of beta-ing my works. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.

* * *

 **Characters: Izana Wistalia**

 **Pairing: Possible one-sided Izana**

 **Wordcount: 992**

 **Rating: General, Romance**

 **Timeline: Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49**

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Is a man satisfied, merely because he is perfumed himself, to mingle with a malodorous crowd?"  
― Edward Bellamy, _Looking Backward_

* * *

 _Ting._

 _Ting._

Izana Wistalia, First Prince of Clarines, Crown Prince of the Royal House of Wistalia, glanced up to his right, when he heard the faint sounds like crystal bells ringing.

He stood still, waiting for the sound to strike again, ignoring the staff nurses quietly bustling about the Royal Pharmacy and Healing Wards of Wistal Castle. Although spring season was a welcome respite from the bitter cold weather experienced by the Kingdom of Clarines, spring also meant it was the start of the flu season. Teenagers, toddlers and old people had been coming in and out of the local hospitals. And because of the influx of patients in need of treatments, Wistal Castle even opened up its doors to admit patients who had otherwise been turned away due the limited vacancy of hospital beds in the wards. Hence, it was with this urgency that he obliged Garack Gazelt's request to meet with him. They needed to discuss the initial stages of improving the country's healthcare system by building more hospitals and introducing new techniques of treatment and immunization that would greatly benefit the kingdom.

The squeaking sounds of the wooden wheels of a cabinet trolley distracted him momentarily; a young female staff wearing a white, clean apron curtsied in front of him before continuing her duties of delivering and restocking supplies in each of the eight wards under Garack Gazelt's care. Staff nurses were busy taking care of the patients, and the only reason his meeting with Garack was cut short was because one of the pregnant patients began to experience labor pains. She hurried away to assist in the birthing procedures. He promised to come back later; Garack vaguely mentioned to give her two hours so they can resume their meeting. So here he was, distracted about the flurry of activities in the Healing Ward. Maybe he should have gone back to his private quarters and waited for the agreed time.

 _Ping. Ting._

There it was again.

Knotting his brow a little, curious about the sound, Izana proceeded to follow the trail of tinkling glass. He has nothing else to do yet; his next appointment with the various diplomats is still in the afternoon. Besides, he'd been doing a ton of paperwork this week, and he needed a break. He might as well indulge himself in a little exploring on his own. A hide and seek game for one.

He found himself standing before a nondescript door, one of the dozens that lined the branching corridors of the Recuperating wing. It took him a full minute to properly understand the words written on the plaque adorning the door.

 _Shirayuki_

Garack mentioned about setting aside some of the vacant rooms for the apprentices in healing and pharmacy; a space to call their own, an office if you will, where they could de-stress if they wished; do their own work in peace, pore over research books without disturbing others and study in their own private sanctuary.

His brother, Zen, did mention that Shirayuki could be found here most of the time. He never bothered to find it, frankly because she did not have enough warrant to occupy his full attention; any information he needed about the commoner who had monopolized the attention of the second prince could always be obtained from other sources. Their opinions of the girl in question proved to be insightful and valuable, and he only ever needed to interact with her very seldom.

However.

Twisting the latch of the door, he felt it give way easily. Either she was not in and he could be imagining things, or _someone_ was in the room with her.

He frowned. He hoped Zen was not inside initiating Shirayuki in the seduction department. He would not allow his brother to associate himself further with that wench!

He pushed the thick oak paneled door with a little bit more force than he intended, expecting to see his brother entwined around the arms of the wench. He didn't care if he would catch them in a state of undress. Better him than others, for Zen's newfound proclivity for the redhead could be exploited in a political manner. He could almost hear the seedy rumors circulating: _the second prince has a penchant in wenching cheap apple pies._ He almost shuddered at the vulgarity of his imagination. Even _he_ shouldn't be caught dead with a commoner. All the eligible ladies would be willing to entertain Zen should he get the sudden urge; but he had gone far south with his taste by taking a fancy with a lightskirt that sports red hair.

 _A lightskirt with brains,_ he amended begrudgingly to himself. Shirayuki, despite her undesirable background, had more brains than a highborn lady's pinky. He wouldn't mind his brother keeping her in his company had she a proper upbringing and a good family title. It would have provided the solution to his problem. Shirayuki would make a formidable consort, even a ruler on her own. However, that was not the case. And if he could still prevent her ingratiating herself further with his brother, he would be doing his utmost to succeed. His goal was, first and foremost, to protect his brother from critics at all cost. Already, a lot of their advisers were having difficulty accepting how he befriended Shirayuki so easily. A foreigner. The old guards were always hostile with foreigners whose agenda were not clear to them.

The door gave a small squeak of protest.

Instead of bare limbs, flush faces and heady groans, he was momentarily blinded by the mid-morning sun shining through the windows of the light and airy room. Even as he closed his eyes against the sudden bright light penetrating his irises, he became aware of sensual scents assailing his nose; something citrusy, flowery and woody pervaded the air around him.

When at last he could open his eyes again, he blinked twice just to make sure that he was _still_ inside a room.

* * *

 **Notes:**

I was inspired to write this bit when I saw BBC's documentary on Perfume. I've always loved perfume and I took care to research some of the scents and oils I depicted in this short multi-chapter series, hoping I can communicate better with the readers on the scents I am trying to make Izana remember memories that he has forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Nope, last time I check I do not own Akagami no Shirayukihime. So, I forcefully kidnapped Izana.

Big thanks to the lovely **Talye Kendrin** on doing a fantastic job of beta-ing my works. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.

* * *

 **Characters: Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki**

 **Pairing: Possible one-sided Izana**

 **Wordcount: 755**

 **Rating: General, Romance**

 **Timeline: Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49**

* * *

 **Quotes:** "He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent."  
― Patrick Süskind, _Perfume: The Story of a Murderer_

* * *

Izana stumbled into a living, breathing, miniature forest of some sort: small pots of herbs crowding one another grew on one side of the wall; they were neatly arranged in a semi-hanging position. A few of them were even hung on hooks, embedded on the exposed timber beams, vines with intricately shaped leaves curling and cascading like jade waterfalls. Likewise, a medium-sized plumeria tree blossomed heavily in quiet glory, its waxy white flowers tinged with deep pink at the edges looked pristine and heavy with dew. A number of exotic orchids were arranged in a haphazard manner, crowding a battered table with peeling white paint, whose drawers were spilling with loose parchment, inks, quills, wax candles, twine, empty liquid bottles and cork stoppers. He could see yellow orchids, deep purple ones, and small white varieties whose main stems bent low due to the abundance of the flowers all competing with their sensual vanilla scents. Reaching out for one of the blooms, his fingers brushed the _sepal_ ; they felt feathery with his touch.

Small, stained glass lanterns hang above the windowsill, the colors shining like the semi-precious stones of turquoise, amethysts and zirconia. A gentle breeze wafted into the room, ruffling the many scraps of crisp parchment tacked to a corkboard, filled with neat, cursive writing and edges stained with ink and other unknown substances.

Izana wrinkled his nose a little; already he was beginning to get drunk on the smell of sweet jasmine, vanilla, citrus, and cedar wood. It was not at all an unpleasant thing, the combination of the scents.

Shirayuki's room made a sharp contrast to Garrack Gazelt's room. The head royal pharmacist likes to fill her cupboards with her own personal concoctions of wines, spirits, gooey, often bitter-tasting medicines, scrolls and books of unknown origins, and the occasional bottles and boxes of noxious minerals she often ordered in small quantities for her experiments and studies. And while he enjoys his visit to the Royal Pharmacist's offices (because he always gets to take one bottle of her alcohol back for his own drinking enjoyment), he doesn't know what to make of this office.

Shirayuki's room looked like a whimsical fairy wonderland of some sort.

He peered cautiously about the room, and immediately spied the redhead bent over her workstation, hard at work. It looked like she did not notice his presence, too absorbed with her own writing and mixing some unnamed liquids all lined up in front of her.

He moved closer, his footsteps light as a cat's. It was the first time he observed her up close, without her knowledge.

Next to a battered table filled with the blooming orchids was her workstation, a square table filled with flasks, glass wand stirrers, a heavy stone mortar and pestle, dried herbs and flowers hanging on handmade herb driers. A large number of small bottles were set in three tiers, each labeled in her neat handwriting and filled with liquids, essences and oils: rose water, lemon oils, orange blossom, violet flower extracts, sandalwood, and myrrh, among others.

In front of it all, Shirayuki was hard at work, concentrating and mumbling to herself. She placed a tiny glass funnel into one of the empty bottles; using a clean flask, she began to mix several liquids with measured amounts and drops of essences. Swirling the contents inside the flask in a counter clockwise motion until the liquids became a pale golden color, she then placed the glass container down and began to scribble on the piece of parchment to her right.

Next, she took a pipette and dipped it into the flask, pressing the rubber end so that some of the liquid was sucked into the thin tube. Carefully, she withdrew the pipette out of the flask and observed the liquid up close against the sunlight.

Izana could smell the scent she created, immediately noting its beauty and sensuality in one whiff. He bit his lower lip and felt a stir in his loins, almost as if….

"I didn't know that you have started experimenting with perfume. I thought your specialty is herbal medicines and antidotes for poisons. Especially since Zen is still learning how to make himself immune to it."

She gave a sudden gasp, her hand almost dropping the pipette, until she gripped it again at the last second. The liquid fell, as commanded by gravity. It landed at the back of her free palm, glided over her white skin before it was absorbed by the pores of her skin.

"Your Highness!" She whirled about in surprise.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **1\. Flower Meanings:**

 **Plumeria** – symbol of love, beauty and grace

 **Rose (tea)** \- I'll remember - always

 **Almond Blossom** \- Hope; lover's charm

 **Orchids** – love, beauty, refinement; you flatter me, thoughtfulness


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: If only there was a way where I can keep Izana Wistalia forever. But nope.. He just hates me for toying with him. :(**

 **Many thanks to the brilliant Talye Kendrin for doing such an awesome job on beta-ing my attempts. Please check out her profile and support this fandom. :)**

* * *

 **Characters: Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki**

 **Pairing: Possible one-sided Izana**

 **Wordcount: 1032**

 **Rating: General, Romance**

 **Timeline: Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49**

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Don't wear perfume in the garden, unless you want to be pollinated by bees"  
― Anne Raver, _The New York Times Garden Writer_

* * *

His eyes came to rest on her green ones.

"Were you expecting someone else?" He tilted his head in a somewhat testy manner. Honestly, this girl should be more aware of her surroundings. He practically made a loud ruckus just entering her room, enough to wake an army into action, and she did not even notice he was practically breathing down her neck!

"N-no." She stood up from the stool where she was sitting and carefully placed the pipette down on one of the silver trays holding various instruments. "To what do I owe the pleasure of thy presence, Prince Izana?"

Pleasure indeed. He raised his eyebrows. Shirayuki had manners; he'd give her that. Despite being bold at managing to counter his opinions during their first meeting, she knew how to act accordingly.

He shrugged, a little bored. He was just beginning to enjoy watching her work, but he _just_ had to interrupt her before he could stop himself. And despite that smile plastered on her face, he knew she was wary about his presence. He should know, he _was_ invading her privacy inside this room. But technically, he _owns_ this castle, anyway. He could enter any room he liked.

"I was passing by when I heard some sounds. Like breaking glass."

Her eyes clouded for a moment. And then it cleared. "Oh."

 _Oh?_

She stepped back a little and showed him a couple of broken flasks on the floor.

His gaze trailed down, following the shards. They glistened like crystals when the sunlight hit them. He could almost taste the tangy iron in his mouth, noting the droplets of crimson marring the white, marble floor. His eyes narrowed into slits.

She scooted away, but not before he noticed the way she tugged at the sleeves of her lab coat and the smear of blood at the cuffs. As if on cue, blood ran down in rivulets from her arms to the very tips of her fingers. It glistened like ruby tears.

"You are injured."

Grabbing suddenly, he lifted her arm up, pushing the edges of her sleeve down to reveal the extent of the cut. Their gazes meet for a moment or two; he could see the golden depths of her irises, circling the green color of her eyes, making them appear larger than he remembered.

"This is nothing. I accidentally pushed the flasks with my elbow." She replied in reassurance. "I was too preoccupied by mixing the concoction that I did not wish to stop midway." Her expression turned thoughtful. Izana was suddenly reminded of an intricate clock with wheels whose cogs began to turn again. He could almost hear her thinking processes; like clockwork with its gears springing to life.

 _Stubborn as a mule,_ he decided. It was a wonder Zen was taken with her. How he could manage to control this sprite, he could only imagine.

Spying a first aid kit at one corner of the table nearby, he went and snatched the box.

"Sit!" he commanded, pointing at the stool beside her.

She obeyed without protest, a little surprise by his tone, but she continued to stare into space, glancing at the table where the bottles she was mixing lay waiting for her.

Izana took her wrist and slid the sleeve up, folding it haphazardly until the full extent of the wound was revealed. The cut on her skin was thin, shallow, not enough to cause alarm, but she was careless with it, letting the wound bleed like so and not immediately taking measures to stop the blood from flowing. Izana took a brown bottle from the box, poured a healthy measure of antiseptic from the balled up cotton he took from a smaller box and began to apply into the wound.

"Tea roses, almond blossoms…" she mumbled, more to herself, causing him to pause a little and pressing the soaked cotton to the wound.

Shirayuki winced slightly from the sting the antiseptic generated. She tried to pull her wrist away from his grip, but he tightened his hold on her, tutting like a schoolteacher. As he carefully cleaned the fine line of the cut on her skin, he noted a few scars on her hands and arms- the results of her work as a royal pharmacist. He knew some of the medicinal plants and herbs had thorns, tough vines and even burning sap that could injure when it was not properly harvested. Many of the healers and pharmacists in the Ward also sport similar scars. But this caught his attention in particular. It made him truly understand that Shirayuki didn't live a sheltered life like other well-bred ladies of his country. She had worked hard to earn the position she was holding now. Even now, she reeked of medicinal herbs, except he could smell an underlying note of apple blossoms beneath the strong medicinal plants she normally handled.

Unlike Altheaia, where she was somewhat spoiled and dotted on by her merchant parents. Often she looked prettily adorned by the hairpins and colorful scarves tied on her hair. It was what caught his eye in the first place as she went about the town markets, shopping for accessories to enhance her beauty more.

Shirayuki was different. And gazing at the scars up close, it didn't feel right to be displeased about the way they looked. They were like battle scars, and she earned them with the many services she had given his injured and sick soldiers. Still, the scars would be obvious if she wore anything suitable for a future princess.

 _Zen's future princess._ He thought to himself, knowing that the gowns, furs and cloaks that ladies of fashion wore would expose more of the tiny scars on her skin.

 _This too shall be another._ For a second, he felt a little pity for her, frowning as he wound the bandage over and covered the cut as neatly as he could. He took a small pair of scissors and snipped the end, tucking it securely. _There._

He held her wrist between his fingers, feeling the steady pulse of her young veins. Looking up, he saw her still lost in thought, her gaze concentrated on the scrap parchment she was scribbling on earlier.

A formula.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **Flower meanings:**

 **Apple blossoms** – preference, good fortune


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Anyone has a sturdy rope? Izana keeps on breaking free.**

 **Credits to Talye Kendrin for helping me with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 735

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "I thought of myself mixing the fragrance of a certain day – the heavy musk of the hillside after the rain with the lightness of fresh blossoms doused in the downpour. I thought of each little bottle as the essence of a happy day or a sad one. I mixed the scent of a lonely moment – sandalwood and bergamot lingering over a rich, peppery base."  
― Sara Sheridan, _The Secret Mandarin_

* * *

A formula for a perfume.

Astonished, he raised his eyebrows. "Perfume? You are creating perfume?"

She snapped back to attention. "Yes."

His brow furrowed deeper. "Perfumes are very hard to create, one often needs to pay attention to the natural scents and properties of the raw materials and ingredients. Surely you jest?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't hold perfumers in high regard despite the complexities of its creation process- I think they are a frivolous extravagance for the privileged few. You should be helping the royal pharmacists and healers in discovering new medicines and vaccinations that would benefit the kingdom more." _What a waste._

She shrugged. "Just because perfume is more commonly used to mask stench and enthrall a potential lover doesn't mean it's useless." Turning sideways, she pounced on a bottle, took one of the small droppers on the silver tray, dipped it and let some liquid drop onto the wrist he was holding.

His eyebrows twitched in disapproval at her display of frivolous attitude. "Pray, elaborate." He watched as the liquid was absorbed into her skin, nose recognizing smells of something _clean and woodsy._

He felt her wrist pull away and he reluctantly released his grip on her. Strange, really. Why would he want to continue holding her? Was it because he felt comfortable touching her? Feeling the delicate bones of her wrist? Or was it because he was curious about the way her eyes took on a dreamy look while she was lost in her thoughts?

"Scents are not just to mask smells, camouflage poisons, or add to the allure of a woman. _Or_ even a man." She added, pausing thoughtfully at her remarks on the personal toiletries of high society members. "Scents evoke memories long past forgotten." Her hand hovered over her nose, eyelids closing momentarily.

Izana's eyes narrowed into slits. _Memories long past forgotten._ He felt his chest tighten a little, brushing aside memories he no longer wanted to remember. Memories that pricked at his heart, his mind and his soul.

"Here."

He was startled when she suddenly raised her wrist near his face. He hesitated. The smell of greenery beckoned at him. _Come have a smell._

"If you think it's some sort of poison, My Lord, you are sorely mistaken. I sniffed at it first. I would surely be foaming in the mouth by now if the scent is poison fumes."

"I did not really think you would be poisoning me." He frowned at her patronizing tone. "I was thinking more on the lines of whether you know what you are really concocting."

"I'm flattered, Your Highness, that you trusted me enough not to kill you with my knowledge of poisons. I was expecting that would be the first thing in your mind." A cynical smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.

"If someone ever _does_ happen to successfully poison me, let me assure you, Shirayuki, that you won't be on my list of usual suspects." He replied quietly.

She seemed taken aback by his declaration that for a full second, she was robbed of words to say. He could see her getting a little worked up with his unexpected remarks and found, to his internal delight, that she appreciated his trust in her. Her face turned pink, and he resisted the urge to reach out and pinch her blooming cheeks.

And then he realized Shirayuki is the girl he has committed himself to remove her influence from his brother; the same Shirayuki that he disapproved of as his brother's potential bride.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something more, though his expression was a dead giveaway. Shirayuki was not blind. If anything, she was a perceptive person and she immediately noted his changing expression.

She bustled about, turning her head a little. "Your Highness, I think you have wasted more than enough of your precious time here. I am sure the diplomats from other provinces would be waiting for you to join them in your private office." Her fingers moved quickly to replace the cork stoppers on her precious oils and scents.

Izana could see her fingers trembling a little, and his chest tightened. He continued to study her while she avoided meeting his eyes, and he gave a small sigh.

Why did seeing her look so affected make him feel so much like a villain? Were these feelings of regret?


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: If I did, Izana would have a bigger role in the manga**

 **Big thanks to Talye Kendrin for helping me with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 824

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Fragrance speaks the loudest on a subliminal level."  
― Marian Bendeth

* * *

Izana was not someone who bothered becoming involved with people he didn't want to invest his time in. For all his brother's intents and purposes, he still believed Shirayuki was just a pastime; someone to alleviate his boredom. Still, he couldn't forget what his brother once told him about Shirayuki.

 _Red is the color of fate. To see a person with such beautiful red hair, it accounts for something significant in the coming future. It makes one anticipate of what is in store for them. Don't you feel it, brother? Just looking at her, feeling the softness of her skin. It's like holding the sun between my fingertips._

But did that future concern him, too?

"Since when did you start being curious about scents and perfumes?" He tried to distract her from her own thoughts by steering the subject back to her interest.

Shirayuki's hand paused in mid-air just as she was about to put the last of her bottles back into the personal perfume organizer she created. He could see her shoulders rise as she took a deep breath before slowly turning to meet his gaze.

"Since I was a kid. When I got curious about recreating the scent my mom used to wear."

"I see." He knew her mother died when she was young and that she grew up under her grandparents' care. That much he had managed to dig out. On the whereabouts of her father, he didn't know. He could be dead, or just a plain dishonorable man who probably abandoned her mother when he found out she was pregnant.

He winced a little at the thought that he had not been careful with his past liaisons. He would have done the same as what her father did to her and her mother. He could have fathered a child and the baby would grow up without knowing about him at all. Just like Shirayuki.

Pursing his lips, his eyes darted to the bottle she was holding and nodded in its direction. "So have you managed to create it?"

She glanced down at the bottle she was holding. "N-no… I am not there yet."

He gave her an expectant smile. "Shall we try again? I am curious."

At least he sounded genuine with his curiosity. Surely Shirayuki, with her talents in medicine and alchemy, could have probably created some interesting scents along the way.

Shirayuki bit her lower lip, budging a little, trying to decide before nodding.

He let out a small sigh of relief when he saw her nod in consent. _Finally._ This feeling of elation, a victory claimed over persuasion made him a little more ecstatic than expected. Like sipping a dubious vintage wine and suddenly finding out it tasted good when he was not expecting it to be so.

A little eager, he made himself comfortable on top of the stool, sitting straighter, dwarfing the red-haired young woman even while he sat.

She took the dropper and let a few drops of the liquid land at the back of her hand.

"I still need to perfect this formula." She hesitated, extending her hand out, but not fully. "You might find it interesting."

"A perfume that has yet to mature." He could indulge her whims. He found himself reluctant to leave, somewhat enjoying the sudden intimacy and comfort this mini-forest of a room created for his senses.

His hand closed over her arm above the wrist. Her eyelids flickered with curiosity at his gesture of familiarity.

"Come closer."

Her eyelids narrowed a little, but she let out a sigh and moved her stool nearer, and sat down until their knees were almost touching. The hemline of her skirt hitched a little higher, white knee against his cotton trousers.

The fine hairs at the back of his neck seemed to react at how they sat so near, face to face. Up close, he could see faint freckles across her nose, and noted how long her eyelashes were; how dark and thick they looked.

She started to fidget under his scrutiny and he let out a slow, wicked smirk, enjoying her feelings of discomfort under his gaze.

He was beginning to enjoy this unusual turn of events. Shirayuki had an uncanny ability to perk up his interest.

Their eyes met before he lowered his nose to her wrist, taking a good whiff of the scent.

His eyelashes fluttered down unwittingly. And immediately, he knew he was transported somewhere far away.

For a good few seconds, he could hear the sounds of the rainforest near Rid and Sui. The trickle of water running down the stream, the chirping of birds above his head. His fingers could feel the texture of the tree bark he was leaning on, even the softness of the grass and moss underfoot. The gentle colors of morning glory called out to him, as well as the profusion of buttercups and daisies.

His head snapped back to attention.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **Flower Meaning:**

 **Morning glory** – affectation

 **Moss** – maternal love

 **Buttercup** – cheerfulness, childishness, desire for riches

 **Daisy** – innocence, loyal love, purity, faith, cheer, simplicity


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Last time I check (which is about 5 seconds ago), still not mine.**

 **A pat on the back to Talye Kendrin for helping me with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 826

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Perfume is magic. It's mystery. We recreate the smell of a flower. Of wood. Of grass. We capture the essence of life. Liquefy it. We store memories. We make dreams," he told her once. "What we do is a wonder, an art, and we have a responsibility to do it well."  
― M.J. Rose, _Seduction_

* * *

"Well?"

His forehead knotted in confusion. "Well what?"

"How was it? Did it smell good?"

"I…" He was at a loss for words. From somewhere far away, the deep and dense forests of Rad and Sui beckoned at him. "It smelled… _okay_ …"

His tone didn't sound convincing even to his own ears.

Shirayuki raised both of her eyebrows. "Just okay?"

He nodded vigorously. "Just okay." He didn't know what to make of her scent. It smelled intoxicating and powerful enough to muddle his senses. He would pass judgment once he smelled it again or studied her other creations.

She frowned. "I was aiming for tranquility with this scent; something clean and soothing. I even thought of making scented wax candles with this and distributing it in the wards." She looked thoughtful at this, a distracted expression etched on her face.

"The wards?" he was puzzled by her idea. He began to lift her wrist near his nose again but she hinged.

For the second time, she pulled away from his hold and Izana found himself gripping nothing but air. He gritted his teeth slightly. He has not finished smelling the scent yet!

"The patients we care for are under much stress and lack energy in the recuperating wards. I find that most of them worry about their family, their livelihoods and other important matters close to their heart; it detriments their ability to heal faster. With scents I created, it would help soothe their nerves and stabilize their emotions, which would in turn, encourage the body to release hormones that would aid their healing and recovery. I truly believe that conditioning the mind and soul is as much important as making a person healthy physically. They can absorb and digest nutritional foods and medicines better. You know, like plants themselves; they can almost feel they are outside and enjoying the fresh air and sun, even if they are still bedridden and unable to stand and move."

Distracted by her speech, he blinked twice, digesting her revolutionary theory. Scents to calm the mind and soul. Wasn't it that elders often advised younger people to seek out places of calmness and solitude so that they wouldn't feel stressed about pressing issues; that they tended to formulate their best decisions when they were relaxed and happy?

And the same condition applied to him when he was back at his castle between Rid and Sui, hunting for game in the rich forest, drinking water from the crystal clear stream and resting his feet on the soft carpet grass while he basked in the smell of all the leaves and plants. His best decisions were decided when he was most relaxed and he could view things from different perspectives.

If she could create soothing scents, could she evoke other feelings and emotions like giddiness, excitement, anxiety, or maybe even _love?_

Still deep in thought, he barely registered when she began to rub her uninjured arm clean with a towel.

Curious by her actions he spoke his thoughts aloud.

She looked at him strangely. "Of course."

"Of course what?" he parroted.

Folding the sleeves of her lab coat, she gave him a somewhat withering stare. "Your highness, what do you wish to see? What do you wish to feel?"

He raised his eyebrows, perplexed. "What I want to see?"

She nodded.

He shrugged carelessly, somewhat arrogantly. "I don't know. Surprise me." He'd rather not say anything that might get her wondering. _No one knows what Prince Izana thinks,_ not even his own brother, Zen Wistalia.

Her lips tugged into a slow smile that evoked some mysterious feeling in his chest. He felt it _bloomed_ into something; a flower opening up in the sun.

Shirayuki stood in front of him, basking in the sunlight streaming from the windows of her room. Her hair took on a fiery red glow, making her eyes look greener than usual.

Without further ado, she uncorked several bottles from the tier of scents she was keeping.

Using clean droppers from another silver tray, she dipped it into the first of the bottles and let the scent be absorbed on the back of her other palm.

"Your Highness Izana. Are you sure about this? Scents are some of the most effective triggers of memories and emotions."

"Meaning?" He asked softly, gazing into her eyes, absorbing the transformation she presented before him. Shirayuki looked like a muse, about to bestow a boon on an artist.

"Some of my scents may cause unwanted emotions to surface, or long-forgotten memories best kept under wraps."

He felt his heart increased its beating tempo, felt the shiver and excitement skate down his spine. The nerves tingled at the back of his skull almost as if he was waiting for an epiphany after a journey, which his olfactory senses might trigger.

"Indulge me." His hand closed over her hand holding the liquid dropper. _Enthrall me, seduce me, and imprison me with your power._

"Very well. Let us begin."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I tried, but sadly Akagami no Shirayukihime is still not mine.**

 **A huge thank you to Talye Kendrin for helping me with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 667

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it."  
― Patrick Süskind, _Perfume: The Story of a Murderer_

* * *

The scent wafted towards him, and his eyes flickered with recognition of some scents: sunflower, grass, and eucalyptus.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, he could hear children's laughter.

He blinked.

Shirayuki frowned.

"What…"

"You are resisting." She accused him mildly.

He chewed the bottom of his lip. "Of course not." And then he added. "I feel a little apprehensive though. Are _you sure_ that your scents can make me travel back in time?" he asked skeptically.

She gave an exasperated sigh, throwing her hands up in the air. "If you were not Zen's brother, I would have you thrown out of my room."

"No you won't. And it's _my_ room. I own this castle." He gave a smug grin.

She raised one eyebrow. "You don't! Technically, it belongs to your family."

He gave a snort. "Still belongs to me."

"Ugh!" She took a step back and began to rummage on one of the drawers of the low cabinet lining one part of the wall. When she turned, she was holding a long piece of velvet scarf.

"Fine! If you really want to be impressed, you need to follow my instructions."

 _Is she going to tie me up and drench me with perfume?_ He found the tie up idea to be a little arousing, though. Now if only Shirayuki would indulge him by putting the perfume somewhere near the hollows of her…

He shook his head at the direction his thoughts were taking. "If you are planning to have your wicked ways with me, you need only ask. I can be very accommodating." One corner of his mouth tugged into a flirty smile.

The redhead looked surprisingly adorable with her irritable expression. He recently found that he liked teasing and poking her just to see her reaction. Didn't he enjoy seeing her distressed when he first interviewed her after arriving back in the Castle? Zen stopped being cute a long time ago when he began to seriously study being a good supporting second Prince. Here was a potential replacement for his own amusement.

"You wish." She walked up close to him, sidestepping the stool, brushing past his shoulders and stood behind his seated form.

He sat still, letting her fumble about with the scarf, before his vision was covered with the dark blue scarf. It smelled clean enough, without even a hint of her scent, only the smell of fresh laundry, old wooden cabinets and sunlight. Ahh, he's beginning to be good at this scent game!

Her fingers brush against his temples, and he tensed a little, knowing the every fiber of his being was suddenly very much aware of her presence, despite being blindfolded.

It was true that when one of the five senses had been handicapped, the other remaining senses would try to compensate for the loss. He could hear his heart beat louder, the hairs at the back of his neck as she stood next to him, even almost tasting the sweetness of crisp, ripe apples picked at the height of summer on his tongue.

Her hand slowly withdrew, and he grabbed her wrist unexpectedly.

"May I smell it again?" he sounded a little breathless, though he knew very well that his senses were just going into overdrive.

"Of course." Has her voice always seemed so soft?

He guided her wrist to his nose, drawing her near that she unwittingly placed her injured arm on his shoulders to lean closer, her hair brushing at the tips of his ears.

Izana set his jaw tight, feeling a little uncomfortably tight below his waist now.

"Tell me what you see once you get to each stage of the smell." Her voice sounded a little husky when she talks like that to him, warm breath making his skin tingle a little that goosebumps began to erupt on his upper arms.

 _The top, middle and base notes._ He nodded.

He slowly took a deep inhale, letting the scent wash over him. The children's laughter returned-louder this time. Clearer.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Flower Meanings:

Sunflower – false riches, pride

Grass – (Vernal) poor, but happy

Eucalyptus - protection


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Akagami no Shirayukihime is the property of Sorata Akizuki**

 **Talye Kendrin has generously lend me her time to assist with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 741

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it."  
― Patrick Süskind, _Perfume: The Story of a Murderer_

* * *

 _Izana! We should pile those dried leaves there!_

Sunflowers. Grass. Dried leaves and twigs. The smell of a hot midday sun. He could see himself playing with a group of children. They wore a commoner's clothing, stained with grass and sweat. All of them were busy creating a huge pile of dried leaves raked by the royal gardeners earlier. He was excited to jump on the pile and hear the leaves crumble beneath his weight while he gazed at the blue sky above.

 _Your Highness! It is time for your lessons!_

 _No! I want to play! Let me play some more!_ He pulled his arm away from the servant sent to fetch him for lessons.

 _You cannot! Besides, the royal council will be disappointed if they learned that the future king is mingling with the commoners._

 _They are not! They're my playmates! Who set up such a rule anyway?_

And then suddenly, the smell of sunflowers faded. It was replaced by dried eucalyptus, dried wood, incense and the musty smell of a schoolroom during rainy days.

He could feel his own eyes tearing a little as the sounds faded in his ears.

Why now? Why keep such a memory? Those were the good old days of his childhood, a couple of years at least before Zen was born.

"You did well, Your Highness. You guessed most of the scents."

"What is it called?"

He can feel her puzzled expression. "What?"

"The perfume." He clarified a little impatiently. "What do you call it?"

"I have no name for it." She withdrew her wrist from his grip, and he let go of her reluctantly. "I was trying to create the smell of the coming autumn-something that I looked forward to during my childhood. But along the way, I was reminded of how I was isolated by the village kids because of the color of my hair. They wouldn't let me participate in games at all. So my grandmother asked me to make straw dolls to pass the time away. We gave those dolls to the orphanage."

"I see."

He heard the sound of bottles clinking together, a chair scraping the floor. In a way, he could understand what Shirayuki was feeling-the feeling of being isolated. When he was young, he never made any distinction between classes. They were all the same to him: friends and playmates. He began to start looking at them differently when his tutors and professors filled his months with nothing but learning geography, arts, history, politics and etiquette. He just assumed then that since he was special, he must never mingle with them anymore. Shirayuki was an outcast because of her hair. And yet, even as she longed to be accepted, she took her experiences in stride and created other memories to tide her over the loneliness.

He clenched his fist a little, feeling the bitterness creeping into his chest at this. Wasn't he doing the same to her? Isolating her from his brother? Because he felt it was his duty as a future king to be mindful of the company his brother keeps?

"I have another one." She interrupted his thoughts, and he sat up a little straighter from his stool.

"I hope it's nothing like the first one." He couldn't help saying. "I…I do not like it." He admitted. And it took courage for one Prince Izana to admit on something that makes him feel vulnerable.

But to Shirayuki, she did not notice this. She was too preoccupied with her scents to give notice on the serious expression of his blindfolded face.

"Me, too. I was only curious what you would make of it."

He felt her sit in front of him again, knees bumping into his.

"I will be putting a few drops on my forearm, as I need a fresh patch of skin."

He nodded. Already he could smell it. Like crushed plums and caramel.

A warm hand closed over his, guided him upward, along her arm, fingers gliding over silk. When the hand stopped, he gripped her arm, pulling on it near his nose.

He heard a soft gasp, the skidding of a stool; his free arm shot out instinctively, holding her on the waist.

"Careful." He murmured, his hand snaking around to hold her at the small of her back. He felt her stiffen immediately, but before he could say anything further, the smell of the scent hit him like a battering ram.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Flower Meanings:

Sunflower – false riches, pride

Grass – (Vernal) poor, but happy

Eucalyptus – protection

Scent Meaning:

Plum – Lactonic scent; creamy, rich and luxurious

Caramel – gourmand scent found in desserts; sweet


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Akagami no Shirayukihime is the property of Sorata Akizuki**

 **Talye Kendrin has generously lend me her time to assist with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 875

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Many perfumes promise to lure men to women. None of them smell of motherhood. None of them proclaim the wearer to be tidy, thrifty, and sensible."  
― Janette Rallison, _My Fair Godmother_

* * *

He could smell sandalwood and amber, incense, and even the burning phosphorus of a matchstick after striking the rough side of the matchbox.

 _A church. One of the chapels of Wilant Castle._ How could he forget such a holy smell? There was even the crisp, clean smell of virgin snow falling outside.

 _A monk comforting a small group of women clutching their babies close. Healers and pharmacists treating the wounded lying in the pews._

Izana glanced down, noted his winter clothing. Winter was particularly heavy and harsh that year. He accompanied his mother inside the chapel, serving as a temporary shelter for the villagers of a nearby area. An avalanche occurred hours ago, burying half of the isolated village in heavy snow and ice. The remaining villagers were forced to seek shelter at Wilant Castle, and her Majesty, the Queen, immediately opened its doors to welcome them. Organizing some of the castle's military arm to search for survivors, the men from the village volunteered to accompany the contingent of soldiers and help look for more survivors.

A few of the women were sobbing, some children crying. Old men and women looked shocked, and sat like imposing statues against the thousands of flickering candles.

" _Here."_

He looked up and found himself accepting bread spread with plum jam and wrapped in paper to retain its warmth. The young servant girl, somewhat near his age, smiled faintly back at him. She had straw-colored hair and slate-colored eyes. _"Eat! It's warm, and it will give you strength."_

" _I do not need it."_ He thrust the bread back at her. Didn't she realize that he was the prince by the grandeur of his clothing? His bearing is a dead giveaway.

She tilted her head and replied. _"Yes you do. Your family is in here somewhere, right? Go on. Her Majesty has instructed us to feed the hungry."_

His eyes narrowed. Opening his mouth, he was cut off abruptly by the girl.

" _To be honest, I feel shaken by the tragedy, and I am afraid I might be of no help at all. I have no news of my own family. They live in the same village. I was employed by the occupants of the Castle as a servant, so that my parents need not work so hard."_ Here, her voice began to tremble a little. _"I am hoping for the best. But I cannot sit by and wait for news. I wanted to do something, so I might as well help the best way I can."_ She gestured at the basket of food and warm apple cider she carried in both hands.

 _Her family is still missing?_ He gazed back at her face to see whether she was lying, but now, he could note the dried tracks of tear stains on her cheeks, the redness of her eyes and the glistening of more unshed tears. And yet, her bearing was even more regal than his!

How brave of her! Where did she find strength to move? He would probably feel distracted and distraught if his own family was caught in the avalanche.

" _What will you do if they didn't survive?"_ The words were already out from his mouth before he realized the callousness of his question.

Her face crumpled a little. But she forced her trembling mouth into a small smile.

" _They are in a better place than me. Life must go on. The world will not stop spinning just because my family is gone."_

" _I am sorry. That was uncalled for."_ He bowed his head in apology, forgetting he is of higher rank than her.A prince nodding to a servant girl.

She placed the baskets down at her feet and clutched his hands, still holding the warm bread. He could almost feel energy from those hands, despite the rough texture and the calluses.

" _It matters not whether you are the richest or the most powerful. We are all the same in the end. Whether you are a prince or a beggar. What matters is what kind of imprint you want to leave in this world. And how people will remember your kindness, bravery and gentleness."_

A commotion outside distracted them. Both turned to look sideways, shadows and lights flickering between the thin slats of the great wooden doors of the chapel.

The doors opened suddenly. The men from the villagers came back, carrying injured people in makeshift stick beds, while some who could still walk were supported by the shoulders and arms, but most of the bedraggled crowd was wet from the snow and they shivered underneath the heavy blankets provided for them.

"Marianne?!" one of the women recognized the servant girl.

"Maman!"

"Oh, Marianne!" The woman ran forward, and Marianne, the servant girl with the kind smile burst into happy tears at being reunited with a member of her family.

Izana looked down at the forgotten basket of food, feeling humbled by the servant girl who had displayed more wisdom than the wisest of the castle's advisers.

 _What matters is what kind of imprint you wanted to leave in this world. And how people will remember your kindness, bravery and gentleness._

Treasures could be found in the most unexpected places and circumstances. Tonight, he found treasure from the words of a servant girl.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **Scent Meaning:**

 **Sandalwood scents** – signify protection, harmony and well being; also Inspiration, psychic awareness and intuition

 **Amber** \- an organic gemstone that's the hardened resin of the now extinct _Pinus succinifera_ , and other trees. It smells oriental and also signify protection and harmony and even opulence.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Akagami no Shirayukihime is the property of Sorata Akizuki**

 **Talye Kendrin has generously lend me her time to assist with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 369

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass."

― John Steinbeck

* * *

"Umm. Izana? Your Highness?"

He tilted his head back a little, only registering her call on his name. _Izana._ It was the first time she ever called his name without a title. And dare he say that her pronunciation of his name sent delicious shivers down his spine.

"Prince Izana? Y-you can let go now. I can stand on my own."

 _I have no doubt about it, Shirayuki,_ he thought, his free hand that was anchoring her waist gliding a little, feeling her soft, feminine curves.

And then, he released her reluctantly.

He heard her heave a sigh of relief. He made note of her sigh with interest.

"This scent feels solemn," he commented, turning his head a little, following the noise of her footsteps.

"It is," she agreed. "I created that to remind me of my mother's last words before she died," she added. "We were inside a chapel, and her coffin was made from cedar."

"I am sorry." He felt sadness creep under his skin. He shook his hands as if to shoo them away, but the feeling lingered.

"Do not despair when I am gone. I am happy I have lived the life I wanted. One should not live based on the riches they acquire or how much power you wielded. _What matters is what kind of imprint you wanted to leave in this world. And how people will remember your kindness, bravery and gentleness."_

His breath hitched, déjà vu caressing his cheek.

"My mother's dying words," Shirayuki said softly. "And I am glad I lived such happy moments with her."

"Your mother is-was a wise woman."

"She was," she agreed, making noises with her bottles of scents. "I always try to live by her last words."

"Kindness, bravery and gentleness," he echoed, understanding dawning on his face. It was always there, the virtues her mother espoused. She had been trying her best to uphold what her mother taught her. Armed with these, she faced him on steady ground, while he hurled veiled insults at her and subtle threats because of her lowly standing.

To be frank, he felt a little ashamed at his previous actions.

"Shirayuki?"

"Hmmm?"

"What do you think of me?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Akagami no Shirayukihime is the property of Sorata Akizuki**

 **Talye Kendrin has generously lend me her time to assist with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 347

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Sometimes one finds an old bottle which rememvers from where all spouts out lives a heart which returns."  
― Baudelaire

* * *

"I should think, we have time for one more scenting session before I need to go back to my shift, you Highness." She skirted on his question with the expertise of a diplomat.

Izana hid a smile. Deciding to go along with her subtle hint, he nodded and allowed her to lead him in a merry chase.

 _Two can play this game!_

He heard the sounds of a cork being uncapped, the clinking of bottles together.

"I've been saving this scent, your Highness. I am curious what you will make of it. I've been told in passing by someone that you are incapable of feeling this particular emotion."

"Oh? And who is this _someone_ who presumes knew me so well?"

"Mistress Haki."

"Ah." His fiancée. He wondered when and where did such an exchange occur? Perhaps when she was in Lyrias, during the time of the epidemic.

Haki knew precisely what she was getting into when he stated his interest of making a political alliance with her family. She was practical and intelligent; ambitious, but not politically inclined. Out of all the women his mother, Queen Haruto, deemed acceptable, Lady Haki of Lyrias topped his list of potential bride candidates.

So, he had arranged for a trial period to get to know her and her family.

If he is not mistaken, their engagement is _not official yet._

He wondered what had Haki told Shirayuki? He would be certain that Shirayuki herself would not divulge their conversation, and would most certainly advise him to ask Haki on his own. Still, it piqued his interest that Shirayuki had inadvertently admitted that she _was thinking about him_ in other terms rather than just being the villainous brother that she had come to know.

"Are you ready?" he asked, a little impatient.

"Almost."

He waited. The blindfold felt a little stifling now, but he would endure it for one last time.

A whiff of pomegranates and orchids called for his attention. They were too irresistible to ignore.

"Shirayuki?" he called out, raising his hands and came up with nothing but air.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Akagami no Shirayukihime is the property of Sorata Akizuki**

 **Talye Kendrin has generously lend me her time to assist with the grammar and spellings. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 631

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Sweeter than the perfume of roses is a reputation for a kind, charitable, unselfish nature; a ready disposition to do to others any good turn in your power."  
― Orison Swett Marden

* * *

" _Papa?"_

Izana blinked twice and saw himself looking up at a couple of unfamiliar faces against the background of deep blue skies. His eyes were shielded from the bright sun by his outstretched hand.

 _Papa?_

They were two. A boy and a girl. They both looked about three in age, chubby faces and cheeks tinged with pink. The boy had blue eyes and blonde hair, while the girl had green eyes ..and red hair.

Red hair. Red hair and green eyes.

He lifted himself up, propping his elbows on the grassy ground to look at the two children properly. He pushed a lock of blonde hair away from his forehead.

Was he dreaming?

Were these two, Shirayuki and Zen's children?

The girl giggled, _"Papa took another nap again."_ She was holding a clump of violets in one hand.

The boy leaned closer and nudged Izana. _"Papa, if you are sick you should go to mama."_

" _Mama?"_ he asked, amused at the little boy who looked so much like Zen. He lifted one hand and cupped the boy's chin.

" _Of course! Mama will give you medicine!"_ the girl poked his nose with her pinkie, the violets smothering his nose for a bit, their delicious scent imprinting on his mind.

" _Am I your father?"_ he asked, somewhat incredulous.

Two pairs of eyes looked at him in great consternation.

" _Of course!"_ they replied in unison.

" _Papa, are you sure you are not sick?"_ The girl with luminous green eyes bumped her forehead with his. Izana felt his heart melt.

" _Papa must have hit his head on a tree."_ The boy persisted. " _Come, let's take you to Mama!"_ He tugged at his arm.

" _Stop!_ _I'm okay! I did not hit my head. See?"_ He held up his hand in mock surrender. _"I believe you!"_ he laughed, unable to resist their adorable faces.

Feeling at ease despite his initial confusion, he was persuaded by the boy to play, tossing him a ball which he tossed back so that the young one could catch it with his chubby hands.

The young girl sat, leaning heavily beside him as she tried to weave the violets into a wreath. The final outcome was a clumsily made flower crown, which he allowed her to place on his head, earning him a good noisy kiss on the cheek.

The two kids were rambunctious, curious and gleeful as they played about. He looked around his surroundings, and surmised he was at Wistal Castle, judging by the garden layout he was keenly familiar with. There seemed to be no one nearby to disturb them, though he could see glimpses of guards stationed near the towers and the high castle walls serving as protection from sieges. Just like any other normal day in Wistal.

" _Yuki? Izano?"_

The two young kids stopped running about and became animated at the sound of someone calling their names.

" _Mama!"_ They both yelled in welcome.

" _Mama! Are you finished with your work?"_ The girl named, Yuki ran towards a woman with glowing red hair.

" _Mama, I think you better go and attend to Papa. He might be sick!"_ The boy named Izano ran up to the woman and he was lifted up and given a resounding kiss on the cheek.

Izana had to squint his eyes in an attempt to take a good look.

The woman approaching him wore a lab coat and underneath a silky dress of light purple. There was no mistake on the hair. It was red as apples. As red as the hair on the young girl. Only hers was longer, flowing like a fiery red waterfall.

And her green eyes were sparkling with mischief.

His heart pounded loudly on his ears.

His wife. His queen. The mother of these two children.

It was Shirayuki.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

 **Flower Meaning:**

Pomegranate flower - elegance

Violets – modesty, faithfulness, virtue and affection. Blue Violets mean watchfulness and "I'll always be true"; White Violets means "let's take a chance on happiness"

Orchids – (Cattleya) mature charm


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Izana Wistalia would surely protest if I was the original author**

 **Thanks to Talye Kendrin for doing a fantastic job of beta-ing these chapters. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 796

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "A woman's perfume tells more about her than her handwriting."  
― Christian Dior

* * *

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Izana reached behind his head and with one hand, undid the knot of his blindfold.

The first thing he saw is Shirayuki looking up at him as he towered over her with his impressive height.

"What is that scent?"

Her eyes meet his in puzzlement. "What scent?"

"That scent! The one that you-I smelled just now!" He sounded a little frantic.

"I haven't-" she began, gesturing at the bottle of scent that was overturned on the table. Gold-colored liquid gleamed against the white marble countertop. "I opened one bottle realized it's the wrong one and I was about to put a stopper onto it when it slipped in my grasp." She bit her lip apologetically. "I'm sorry."

Deflated, he sat down on the stool. "Oh."

He felt a little foolish with his unexpected reaction. Didn't he just smell it earlier? That incredible scent? Violets and orchids, pomegranates, freshly cut grass? That incredible summer sky?

Even now, he can still hear the echo of the two children's laughter. Their sparkling blue and green eyes mesmerizing him, rendering him speechless with their perfection and happiness.

He eyed the bottle that Shirayuki spilled on the table. There was no mistake about it. The content of that bottle was the one that he smelled. It was sensual and spiritual, illuminating and hopeful. How could one scent show him such an impossible future?

From the bottle, he glanced back at Shirayuki, who was busy wiping the table clean and moving the loose parchment and quills away, tucking them in one drawer so as not to damage them.

He felt himself drawn to the bottle that was spilled. Out of all the bottles in the perfume organ, this one looked a little special. The bottle was of jade-green color, with a thin bit of ribbon tied at the neck.

"Euphoria."

She stopped wiping the table.

"I beg your pardon, Prince Izana?"

He stood up and took the bottle, cradling it into his palm.

"If I were to describe this scent in one word, it's euphoria." He frowned a little. Such a powerful scent in a tiny bottle. It holds secrets and dreams with only a cork stopper standing in between.

"My mother's wedding scent." Shirayuki had finished wiping the marble top and stashed the rag away. She began to re-arrange the stools, tucking them underneath the table as neatly as she could.

"Your mother's?" he asked, a questioning look in his eyes.

"One of my precious creations. She wore that scent on the day my father was supposed to fetch her to be wedded to my Uncle."

His ears perked up in interest. One would normally mistake her looks to be ordinary and commonplace. But if one were to look closer, like where he stood now, Shirayuki looked extraordinarily beautiful when she looked wistful and dreamy, even if wisps of her red hair sprung loose from the ponytail she subjected them to. Her profile looked soft and ethereal against the late morning sunlight. His fingers itched to touch her face and see if she was real and not some fairy sprite that entered the room and enthralled him into believing in dreams.

His heart began to beat in fast erratic rhythms, blood rushing and warm in his veins. Energy flowed to the very tips of his fingers.

He knew what the scent signified. Knew what this feeling was, blooming in his chest. He was afraid to give it a name, for it might shatter like crystal.

There was a knock on the door.

"Shirayuki? Mistress Garack requests your presence in the operating room."

"Yes, coming!" Shirayuki check her lab coat and began to smooth the wrinkles away. She turned to face him, her thoughts already on hand to the task she is about to do.

"My deepest apologies, Prince Izana. I'm afraid our session has ended."

He shook his head. "The regrets are mine, Shirayuki. I quite enjoyed the sessions and am hoping we could do it again soon."

In a surprising gesture, he took her hand and lifted it close to his face. Pressing his lips to the back of her hand, he felt a faint electrical current passed between them.

He caught the look of confusion in her face.

"M-my lord." She stammered a little, pulling her hand away from his gentle grip. Cradling the hand he had just kissed, she looked at him strangely, unable to fathom what mystery has transpired between them.

The knock became persistent.

"My lady? Shall I tell Mistress Garack that you are on your way?" the messenger asked.

Shirayuki glanced at the door and back to his Izana's face. "I'm coming." She called out, took one last look at him before she left the room, carefully closing the door behind her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I've been kicked out from the original conception of the manga...NOT!**

 **Thanks to Talye Kendrin for doing a fantastic job of beta-ing these chapters. Please check out her profile and support this fandom.**

* * *

 **Characters:** Izana Wistalia, Shirayuki

 **Pairing:** Possible one-sided Izana

 **Wordcount:** 796

 **Rating:** General, Romance

 **Timeline:** Between Chapter 41 and Chapter 49

* * *

 **Quotes:** "Amore  & Psyche: the soul is ineffable, therefore tru soul mates are indescribably connected."  
― Serena Jade, Charismatic Connection: The Authentic Soul Mate experience

* * *

He was distracted all throughout the day. His right hand never left the pocket of his coat. As soon as Shirayuki left the mini-forest room, it was as if the very light and life was extinguish inside, leaving him cold.

Even the gifts of wine and homemade ale that Garack Gazelt prepared for him when they resumed their meeting wasn't enough to divert his thoughts away from Shirayuki.

Standing outside the balcony of his great bedchamber, brooding about the future.

His children.

His and Shirayuki's.

Was it possible that he had glimpsed a slice of the future?

Or was it an illusion created by the perfume?

Even now, gripping the bottle he kept hidden in the pocket of his nightshirt, the scent called out to him. Beckoning him.

The scent that altered the course of two lives.

According to his retainer, there were no records of Shirayuki's father; no records of who he was or where he came from. But the story that she mentioned seemed oddly familiar. One of their advisors mentioned about a past scandal from Tanbarun that occurred roughly two decades back. A duke was supposed to marry a beautiful woman whose hair was red as apples. However the day before the wedding, she was spirited far away by the duke's own nephew, who took the red-haired princess as his bride and married her.

The nephew was banished from court, never to return. And the bride was disgraced, no longer suited to be a duchess. And so she went back to her family. Their whereabouts were unknown afterwards.

Could this couple be the same one that Shirayuki was talking about earlier?

Izana opened his fist to reveal the bottle of perfume he stole. It felt heavy on his palm, as if the very weight of the future rested on his bare hands.

 _Papa. Papa._

The children's voice echoed in his ears.

 _I hope one day when you meet_ the one _that you truly want, she would break your heart into pieces and will continue to haunt you for the rest of your life._

Altheaia's voice floated in the breeze. Like a promise that is slowly coming true.

His chest tightened. Of course he knew what this bottle meant to him! What this bottle meant to Shirayuki.

The scent that might be his downfall. Lo and behold!

His heart beat in response while he carefully read the label on the bottle he was clutching close to him.

Amore and Psyche.

 _Love and soul._

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 **Thank you dear readers and followers for reading my short take on Izana and Shirayuki.**


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